


Debts Owed

by Kitsu



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: But Vincent is Clueless, Cid is Flirting, Drinking Session, Loneliness, M/M, Mental Healing, Post-Canon, Spilling the Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 12:57:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21374524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsu/pseuds/Kitsu
Summary: Vincent Valentine finds himself with too much time to think, and decides to collect on a debt owed to avoid it.
Relationships: As In They're Married But It's Platonic, Cid Highwind & Vincent Valentine, Cid Highwind/Shera, Cid Highwind/Vincent Valentine, but not yet - Relationship, sort of - Relationship
Comments: 12
Kudos: 73





	Debts Owed

Without Chaos always clawing at the edge of his mind, without the being’s ever present insistency, his dark presence, Vincent's mind felt empty. Clearer than in years. Following a string of thought through didn’t feel like swimming in molasses any longer. That was why, more and more often, he found himself daydreaming, contemplating, where before he had spent his time simply trying to keep the monsters quiet. With the biggest, baddest of them gone, the rest had quiet down, leaving him more time for himself.

One thought kept returning. The “ol’ gang”, as Highwind had called them… They seemed so happy whenever they met up. Always talking about the “old days”, reliving battles and interesting moments over and over, together. Several of them seemed to have paired up permanently, friends or lovers or both. All seemed to have found a place in the world reborn. Even old enemies had become allies, and there was peace on the horizon.

With Hojo permanently erased, no new freak experiments could be performed. Any new monstrous apparitions showing up were simply old problems coming into the light of day, and were being dealt with summarily by the WRO. The world was slowly being rebuilt - as were families and friendships.

But there he was, still keeping mostly to himself, only seeking out company when called to aid - just as he had for the last three years. 

After the Remnant affair, he had caved and bought himself a phone. At uneven intervals texts would tick in. Often from Reeve, sometimes from Cloud, all too often from Yuffie. One or two drunk texts from that red-headed brat of a Turk - how he had even gotten his number Vincent didn’t know. And just once, from Cid Highwind. “Vince, I owe you a bottle,” it read. “Call me whenever you want to collect.”

Holding the phone in hand, he read the message for what was probably the fiftieth time. All the others irked him. Not really, but he could at least pretend they did. He was fully aware the rest of the old crew cared for him, in their own, sometimes weird, ways. However, they were all so young - well, maybe not anymore, but compared to him they had been a ragtag bunch of mere children cast into a world in chaos, and somehow they had come out on the other side mostly unscathed. Not Strife, not completely, true, but that was a different story entirely - more twisted than any of the others’. Strife had been broken almost from the start, and him and Strife were perhaps too alike, sharing too many of the same issues, they’d drag each other down a twisted spiral if spending too much time together. Yuffie though, and Tifa, Barret, Highwind - they’d all kept their spirits through thick and thin. Red had his issues, but they’d talked those out and had come to an agreement that suited them both. Living long lives lead to long-lived friendships, where they weren’t required to neither meet nor talk often. 

Considering all this, Vincent concluded there were two people he didn’t much mind spending time with. One was Tseng of the Turks, who in many ways were similar to himself, in just the right ways, a person he could do missions alongside with without either one talking the other’s ears full. Though, along with Tseng most often came Reno, and that one could set your ears on fire with his incessant talk. (However that most likely explained why Reno had his number, little sneak had probably gotten it off of Tseng’s phone. Why he was messaging was another question entirely.)

The other one he actually felt comfortable around was a surprise in how different he was from Vincent himself. Cid Highwind - brash, loud, talkative. But a grown man. Though Highwind could talk your ears off as well, he knew when not to. He had lived long enough to appreciate a good silence - particularly over a decent drink. It had happened once or twice over the last few years. They had ended up in the same bar, at the same table, sharing a bottle - and their trouble with the women in their life. Actually, it was mostly Highwind sharing, Vincent listening and comparing. Then both would sigh, and silence would fall over them as they drained a bottle together. 

Maybe he felt like a drink. Maybe he should collect on debts owed. Jotting down a few words, just a time two days later and coordinates, he hit send. Standing up, he stretched. Being social once in a while didn’t hurt, he had to remind himself. He knew himself fairly well by now, and knew he tended to work himself into dark moods thinking too much. Time to work himself out of it. The new world was bright, too bright for him too keep brooding. Sins had been forgiven, erased. 

—

The coordinates had simply been to a tavern in Kalm. Vincent appreciated its somewhat rustic charms - in addition to Kalm being a less busy area than many others.

Even though Highwind claimed to owe him one, Vincent paid the bartender for a bottle, and brought it, along with two glasses, to a table in a darker corner, placing himself with his back to the wall, and eyes on the front door. Some habits die hard.

Fifteen minutes late,  _ of course _ , Highwind strolled through the door, and headed straight over, knowing exactly where to seek out Vincent in a room. “Trouble parkin’,” he said, chuckling. “The  _ Shera _ doesn’t exactly fit inside the lines of a normal ol’ parkin’ spot.”

“Mhm,” Vincent offered, not really engaging. Highwind tended to always be later, or just in the nick of time.

He offered the other man a drink by shoving the bottle across the table towards him and raising an eyebrow. 

Highwind grabbed it by the neck and poured himself a generous helping. “Thought it was me who owed you one?”

“Next one.”

“ _ Someone  _ intends to get drunk?” Highwind grinned. “The world must be endin’ anew.”

Vincent just stared at him, hiding a smile behind the high collar of his cape. He wasn’t, but he just might be trying to get Cid drunk. Or at least just provide him with enough of a reason to stay for a good while. A drunk Cid was an exceptionally talkative Cid was a Cid who forgot about time entirely. It had happened before, them drinking and Cid talking far into the small hours of the morning. 

“How’s life treatin’ ye, Vince? Been a while since I saw ye last. Half a year or so?” Cid picked up his glass, swirling amber liquid around in it. 

Not particularly wanting to divulge, Vincent deflected with a question of his own - it was the game they played. “How’s Shera?”

“Ye talkin’ ‘bout the boat or the scientist? The boat flies fast an' mostly straight, the scientist is doin’ the job she loves, overseein’ the operation of an oil rig in Rocket Town.”

“How’s married life treating you? She ever let you drag her away from her projects?” 

Cid, had in fact, disclosed he had married Shera when he’d met up with Vincent during the Deepground crisis. Cid had also revealed that it was largely a marriage on paper only. They had lived together for so long they had gotten used to each other, depended on each other in their daily lives. Shera spent most of her time on an assortment of scientific and humanitarian projects, and Cid… Well, Cid tended to stray. Shera knew, it had always been that way. For her, it wasn’t an issue, it had always been part of their arrangement. In an uncertain world, their marriage provided a bit of stability and security - should Cid not come home one day, the house and all its trappings would be hers. The love between them were that of old friends and the marriage had basically been Cid’s way of apologizing for how he had treated her over the years, and she was well aware.

“Nah, she’s been busy. After the rain, her geostigma disappeared as well, but there were many in RT who died before it fell, an’ quite a few were orphaned. She’s helpin’ settin’ the kids up with foster parents an’ such, ye know how she gets. She’s keepin’ busy.”

Sounded like her. 

“She’s also taken in a few older teens who were showin’ scholarly promise as trainees. They’re livin’ with us. Good kids, but there’s a bit too much hustle and bustle at the house these days, I try to stay busy.” The “and away” was implied.

“Mostly spendin’ time on the boat these days, runnin’ jobs for WRO. They’ve got quite the infrastructure built up by now, an’ resources needs a lot of shufflin’ around on the map. Been gettin’ to fly all over.”

“Find out who funds them already?” Vincent had been wondering since Deepground, seeing the full size of the organization then. He had a hunch, but it had never been confirmed. 

“You mean the rumour it’s that prodigal son who funds Reeve? It’s as good a guess as any. Best lead there is still, haven’t heard anythin’ else. Who really cares, as long as they do good?”

“True.” Though power should always be checked and balanced, and Vincent wasn’t really sure that applied to the WRO. Reeve Tuesti, however, was a good man, and with good men came good intentions. Reeve had even had the guts to go against Shinra while still working for the company. As long as he was in control, Vincent would trust them. Several of the old group seemed to work for WRO these days, at least by association, if not on paper. Including himself, at times.

Cid filled his glass again, and lifted it to his lips. He seemed to be enjoying the taste of the drink, savouring it. Vincent could see why, it was pretty smooth, a good choice indeed. Drinking in silence for a few minutes, Vincent just revelled in Highwind’s company. He liked this, being able to sit at the same table,  **not** having to talk. 

The silence was finally broken by Highwind. “Why did ye decide to collect?” He waved the glass back and forth slightly, indicating the “debt” owed.

Vincent decided to go with the truth. “I was…lonely.” 

“So even ye can experience the lonesome blues, eh?” Highwind stared at him over the rim of the glass. “Haven’t found yerself some lucky lady yet?”

They both knew that would never happen, not in a lifetime or two at least. Vincent Valentine’s heart had been so irreparably broken it would take someone extremely special to be able to mend it. And even mended, it would be safeguarded for a long, long time. 

Cid leaned back in his chair, placing the glass on the table. “What should I think about it bein’ me ye called when feelin’ lonely?”

“You don’t annoy me as badly as the rest.” Vincent was smiling, and though his face was half hidden, it reflected in his eyes.

“I s’pose I should feel honoured I was deemed worthy, yer highness.” Cid laughed, warmly. “So what have ye been up to lately? Really?”

“Saving the world. What else?” Same old joke, always. But Vincent continued, uncharacteristically. “Trying to rearrange my mind, with Chaos gone. It’s…quiet.”

“It wasn’t before? Ye always seemed so calm and collected. Well, until one of them got out, that’s it.”

“That was mostly me struggling to keep them in check. They were... **are ** not exactly like voices in my mind, more like very loud impulses, urges. And though Masker, Gigas and Beast are still present, they are nothing compared to what Chaos was like. They are the urge to not step on cracks in the pavement, he was the call to step off a precipice and into an abyss. No comparison between them. With him gone, the rest have quieted down to a murmur.”

It was probably one of the lengthiest comments from Vincent Cid had ever heard, at least over a shared drink. “Ye’ve sure become talkative, Vince-sans-Chaos.”  The glare he received in return made him chuckle again. “It suits ye. And is probably good for ye. Any tea ye have, ye can spill to me. I don’t mind. Buddies, no?”

_ Friends?  _ Yes. Friends. Feeling a little flustered, Vincent undid the cape at the front, pulling it to the side a fraction, revealing his face properly - though the flickering lights of simulated candles left deep shadows.

Looking up, he saw Cid staring wide-eyed at him. “What?”

“Man, ye can’t just do that. My poor heart.” Cid placed his palm against his heart, overly dramatic. 

“Hn?” Vincent noticed the humour in Cid’s eyes, but he really didn’t know what he was on about.

“Have ye not looked at yer face in a mirror lately? Yer lookin’  _ fine _ these days. More so considerin’ yer sixty or so. Mighty fine.” Cid lifted an eyebrow, and his glass. “Cheers.”

_ What the hell? _ That was a new one, even from Cid.  “You’re rambling, Highwind,” Vincent retorted. “Drunk already? Need me to carry you back to the  _ Shera _ ?” He had before, once or twice.

Cid pulled up his phone, and before Vincent knew any better, he had snapped a photo of him and flipped it to show Vincent the screen. “See the difference?”

Staring at his own face, Vincent really couldn’t see whatever Cid was seeing. He looked like himself. “No.”

“Man, ye’r dense. Ye look completely different. Didn’t notice until ye removed that godawful cape.” He wasn’t going to reveal how shocked he’d really been. The difference was remarkable, Vincent looked softer, calmer, so much less troubled. He didn’t look like a thirty-something with the tired eyes of a centenarian any longer, just a thirty-something. The formerly crimson eyes were still red, but leaned warmer and, in the flickering light, darker.

“Hm? I like my cape.”

“We know. Yer such a drama queen, and that cape is the perfect accessory. Ye wouldn’t look half as cool hangin’ around in spires howlin’ at the moon without it.”

Vincent groaned, there the bad jokes had started. “I  _ do not _ howl.” 

“Sure, sure. Ye don’t.” _But I wonder if I could make y- Whoops._ _What the hell?_ Cid smacked his forehead with his palm a few times.

“What?”   


“Oh, just a mental hiccup. Nothin’ to worry about.” Where on earth had that idea come from? No sooner than the question had formed, images flashed before his eyes. Images that would give him confused boners for days.  _ Hells. _ He stared at the liquid in his glass. Was it spiked with something? Nah, it tasted and smelled like whiskey, and Vincent was drinking from the same bottle after all. He didn’t seem to be affected by it in any weird ways. 

“You are definitely not behaving quite like yourself, Cid. Should we call it quits for today?”

“Nah, nah. It’s okay, I was just… Eh, just rememberin’ somethin’. Uhm, I left a dumbass in charge of controllin’ the  _ Shera _ ’s right engine. Will have to go over his work tomorrow.” Lies, lies, all lies. But oh well, it seemed to placate Vincent. Taking a big gulp of the drink, he sat back in his chair, keeping his mouth shut for good minute, just looking Vincent over, as surreptitiously as he could. 

Though it was still noticed. “You’re staring again.”

“Sorry, sorry. Really, ye look so different.” Better. Healthier. Whole. What had been a constant reddish tint around his eyes seemed to have moved to his cheeks, now a healthy flush instead of a sickly one. One that seemed to deepen the longer Cid stared at him. Cid wondered if Vincent was aware. Then he waved his hand disarmingly. “I’m just bein’ dumb.”

Considering Cid’s reaction Vincent lifted his hand, distractedly running it along his own jaw. He really hadn’t considered he could look any different than before Chaos. Chaos and Lucrecia. Finding forgiveness for his sins. Finding peace of mind. But he guessed all those could change a man, not just mentally, but also physically. He appreciated Cid telling him, he realized. It gave him yet another something to think about. Did he feel happier?  _ Yes.  _ Yes, he did. By far. 

“Man, look at ye. How could ye not know? I would have thought women…people were throwin’ themselves at yer feet vying for yer attention.” 

“Ffft. Which people? The ones lurking in jungles and deep underground, where I’ve been spending my time cleaning out monsters?”

Cid swept the room with his eyes, and laughed. “There’s at least seven individuals here drinkin’ ye up with their eyes just now.”  _ Eight including himself. _

The shock in Vincent’s eyes was clearly visible. “You lie.”

“Nope, not at all. Look up and smile to the nice lady behind the bar, the redhead in the corner, the blonde  **and** the other blonde by the standin’ table, the Wutai by the window an’ the twins in the red dresses.”

“Stop, stop.” Vincent waved his hand, feeling embarrassed for the first time in a long, long time. “Hnn...”

“Ye gotta know, Vince, how attractive people find ye. How could ye not?”

“I’m an engineered monster. Monsters aren’t attractive.”

“Ye gotta be kiddin’ me. Did ye ever look at Sephiroth? The remnants? The Tsviets? One single common denominator there - perfect, attractive abominations, each an’ every one. Not that ye’re one, I mean…”  _ Oh, fuck. Don’ttakeitthewrongwaydon’ttakeitthewrongwaydon’ttakeitthewrongway... _

“Point taken. Engineering tends to strive perfection. I, though, was more of an accident…” 

“One hella attractive accident, in that case.”

“A pretty face can lie, Highwind.”

Cid swore internally - there was that deep sadness in Vincent’s voice again, the one that always tugged too hard on hi ol’ heart-strings. “Well aware. But, Vince, ye were never a monster to us. Not even Chaos changed that. A pretty face can lie, but a monstrous - not that yers  **ever ** was - can hide a good heart. Though ye hate to show it, yer heart was always in it, Vince.” 

“Hn.” Vincent picked up his glass and drank, having no good answer. The evening had certainly taken a turn he hadn’t foreseen - he’d expected Cid to whine about his married life, get drunk and start telling stupid jokes. None of it had happened yet. 

“Time to stop hidin’, Vince. I think ye know it - why else did ye call me here? Ye needed company, ye needed human interaction. Not somethin’ a monster needs, is it?”

“Suppose not.” Vincent couldn’t fault Cid’s logic, not really. He  **had** felt lonely.

“Ye know… If yer lonely, there’s room on the  _ Shera _ . Runnin’ goods between Edge an’ Junon over the next few days. Come with, stretch yer wings for a bit?”  _ Uh, oh, bad choice of words. Fuck.  _ Whincing, Cid offered a whole-hearted, “Sorry.”

About to decline on reflex, Vincent found himself halting. Why not go? Nothing on the books for the moment, not like he didn’t have the time.

“Sure Yuffie would love to say hi as well. Heard she’s been bothering ye a lot after ye bought the phone. Easier to ask her to shut the hell up in person.” Not really a good selling point, but Cid couldn’t help tease just a little bit.

“You don’t say.” Vincent finished his drink. “I accept your offer.”

“R… Really?”  _ Whoop!  _ Cid hoped his internal jubilation didn’t show on his face, the old Vincent, at least, would have been liable to change his mind at any sign of emotion from others.

“Yes. I’ll come with. Haven’t been flying for a while.”  _ Not since I lost my wings, no. _ Unwittingly, Vincent lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, just above where Chaos’ wings would have sprouted. “I miss the wind in my face.” 

“Happy to have ye on board for as long as ye feel like it. Takin’ off from the airstrip eight sharp tomorrow mornin’. If ye’re not there, I’ll come hunt ye down.” Cid finished his own drink, and seeing as the bottle was empty, it felt like the right place to end the evening. “Looks like I owe ye two now.”

Vincent laughed under his breath, and rose from the table. In a flash, he was gone, but his words echoed behind him, “Seems you do. I’ll be sure to collect. ‘Till tomorrow.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Might get a second part, might not. How about it?
> 
> Also, mind, I've never listened to their voice actors in English, so Cid is just my take on him translated from one language, via my language, into English. Convoluted, yadda.


End file.
